The Christmas season is almost here. Actually, according to Costco, it’s been here since August which is a bit annoying. To me, the Christmas season starts December 1st. Sometimes December 24th; it depends on how things are going.
I love Christmas and I only wish that each year it could be all that I want it to be. I wish I could win the lottery so that I could buy everyone, everything! I am so guilty of feeling a materialistic joy over toys! I’m actually embarrassed. I am like a kid in a candy store and would take one of everything and then some. From there, I would head out into the streets and just start passing out the treats. I love it all.
And it’s not just the gift giving I love, it’s the preparation for Christmas. It’s the lights, the parties, the arrival of eggnog, oranges and the baking. I am a super keener except that I also suffer from Christmas SUCK. How I want “it” to be, is nothing like “it” actually is.
“Hope keeps the agony alive” rings true for me at Christmas.
I am terrible at almost everything Christmas. I am awful at giving gifts. I am someone who should not be allowed to shop by themselves. In fact, just this year I learned that no really loves facial cleanser in their stocking. Really? Is that the same for the new tooth brush too?
It’s not from lack of effort. I spend hours thinking about the season. I agonize over spreadsheets and making lists while I scour through cookbooks seeking the perfect Christmas cookie combination and ideal interior decore.
This hurts but it has to be said out loud, despite all my effort, I am a Christmas Fail. All the beautiful ideas that sit in my head are somehow misunderstood by the time the thoughts reach my hands. Nothing works the way it was supposed to. My baking burns, my fudge fails, my decorating is a disaster and my sense of holiday optimism and joy is replaced by frustration, stress and dare I say, a small bit of Christmas rage. I’m like a bad self help book. For over twenty years, I approach the holidays with a mind set of “this year will be different!” and then something catches fire. Think Monty Python while wearing an apron.
I try. I really do but I can’t bring myself to follow through to the state of perfection. The perfect Christmas would have the perfect tree which would be tall and bushy. I am drawn to trees who clearly suffer from anorexia. My trees are skinny and spindly but I choose them because I don’t want them to feel like they are “less than”. I want them to feel loved so I smother them with bright lights and use the remote control to create a Christmas disco. My family just stares. I am easily the winner of the worst Christmas sweater. I yearn for perfection but I sure excel at gaudy and awful.
I have a snow globe collection which is getting a bit out of control. The same can be said for my Christmas Village. This year the village has grown so big that I have to make a subdivision out on the porch. I like tinsel. I love hiding gifts and finding them in the spring. And while I forget where I hide presents, I never forget where I put the chocolate; I just forget to tell my family where it might be. Whatever. We all have our own special traditions.
I want Christmas to be perfect, except that it’s not. Christmas is messy and complicated and I don’t think that’s just me. Christmas is many things and not all of it good. Christmas is hard. It’s a mirage that leads us to believe that the season is shiny and joyous, except when its not.
For many people, it’s a season to pretend. They pretend to be happy, to have more than they do, to give more than they have. There is stress and heart ache and a pit of emptiness and a sense of loneliness. While many gather around tables surrounded by family and friends, there are just as many tables with a setting for one.
When did the Christmas season become an extension of Black Friday deals to Boxing Day sales? And the notion of Santa needs to be exposed. How can Santa bring ipads to some and tooth brushes to others? How is that fair and what does that say about a sense of self and worth? Nothing like a season of giving to make you feel less.
I’m guilty. I am so, so guilty. I loved giving gifts but I think I had it all wrong. My love of material giving grew unhealthy. I was sending a message that Christmas was something you found in a box and love was large when wrapped with a bow.
Three years ago, I took a look in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw. Why was I buying gifts for people who had more than enough? Every day is Christmas in our house. We have enough of everything and more! We are abundantly blessed right down to our one bathroom home, the gift of patience is truly year round.
The look in the mirror caused me to shift. The call of the Christmas spirit could not be bought on-line or replicated from a magazine. The call was to stretch just a little bit more.
I called a family meeting and announced that Christmas was changing. The Sim family would host a Christmas Eve dinner for anyone in the community. I couldn’t bear another holiday season knowing that some were eating by themselves and feeling alone. I felt that we, as a family, could turn our attention to breaking open the box and finding a way to share.
I would be a liar if I said that everyone loved my idea. Owen, who was 11 at the time was most unimpressed. “Why bother with Christmas if there aren’t any gifts?” Oh dear Owen, and that is the point. If we only find joy in the receiving, we are missing the reason for the season and that had to change.
We fed 170 people that year. We borrowed the community ski lodge and opened the doors to welcome people from all up and down the valley. We weren’t alone in our quest to connect; we had ample volunteers and an abundance of cheer! We offered a free turkey dinner for anyone who wanted to share in the spirit of a community Christmas. Donations were welcome but not expected. Fishes and loaves somehow fed the masses. We sang and we laughed and we wove a magic that lightened hearts and gave a warm glow.
It was hard work and my family was exhausted by the end. However, my dear little Owen was the angel of the day. He served the punch and gave out the gift bags. He met the people and saw the need. While he was giving, he felt what it was to receive and at the end of the night he said, “Mom, that was good.”
Yes Owen, it was. In fact, it was perfect and given with love.
Christmas 2020 is going to be tough. COVID has been cruel. There have been varying losses and I don’t know very many who haven’t felt changed. For months we have kept apart and with Christmas looming, the divide feels like it is growing.
The loss of social connection over the holiday season seems like the last straw. COVID fatigue feels heavy and grey. To fight the fatigue, we are moving forward with the 4th Annual Community Christmas Eve dinner. We had our concerns but have opted to pivot and the dinner will now be delivered. It won’t be the same but it will be done and shared as an expression of love. We have many new elves and several kind donations. My experience is that people are seeking ways to give, to be a part the sum that makes the greater whole.
I share this because I’ve been struggling for a few months. Nothing has gone according to plan. While I wish I could settle into a pose of perfection, I continue to learn that the real living comes from leaning into the hurt.
“Shelley, my dad is in hospice and my mom isn’t doing well. Could we please order Christmas Eve dinner?” “Is there a way I can help? My husband passed away on the 14th and I don’t want to be alone” “I’m a senior and I don’t cook very much, could I ask for a meal?” Real stories, honest needs.
My Christmas wish is that we all stand back from the easy giving and look for the gaps.
Let’s shake up the workplace $10 Secret Santa concept. What would happen if we exchanged cards instead? Notes of kindness that gave the soul a lift. And the $10 component? Create impact through collective giving and sharing that creates ripples of change.
Find a family or person that has lost their income and struggling to make ends meet. Search out a senior who needs a helping hand or maybe play the Anonymous Angel and leave a basket of treats for someone who seems all alone. I think if we listen, there is a silence that actually echoes with calls for help.
And while we can try to heal the hurts and bandage some pain, this Christmas, there still will be feelings of loss and regret. There will still be wishes that just can’t be met.
I wish I could return to life pre-COVID. I would trade almost anything to once again hug all those that I love. I want to pop and puncture bubbles so we can all be as one. I want to hug my mom, connect with my sister, sit with my dad and embrace extended family and friends and never, ever let anyone go.
This Christmas will be hard. I hope that the giving will help heal that hole.
As for my quest for Christmas perfection; it will likely still rear its head. I will still burn the cookies, take pity on the tree with less limbs but I will do my best to reach out to break down the walls of holiday pretend. I will ask more questions, “How are you? What can I do?”
I wish I was perfect but then again, maybe it is my flaws that help me feel akin to others that feel broken. Maybe imperfection is the safe space for deeper connection. Maybe it’s more fun to dance with the lights than stand on a pedestal.
So what would you give? What is your gift? If you have a minute, write a comment and share your thoughts.
Here’s to being brave and being part of the change!
With love,
Shelley
And Then I Jumped...... 